Scumbag Schemed Seven Years for My Company; I Sold Cheap

Ever since I was a kid, I've had an anti-fraud system in my head.

Back when other heirs from wealthy families were being lured off by kidnappers with nothing but a corn dog, the system had already walked me through it and put the kidnappers behind bars.

When my mother, middle-aged and dating online, nearly got conned out of ten million by a romance scammer, I used the system to trace the fraud ring to its lair and shut the whole operation down.

Until a car crash seven years ago, when the system had no choice but to burn its own code to save me.

But on the day of my wedding, that sharp-tongued voice suddenly spoke up again.

Oh? So desperate to get hitched? Didn't I drill it into you over and over, no marriage, no kids, stay safe? Is your brain full of water blisters?

I was about to say that my fianc did count as the man who saved me in that crash all those years ago.

The system was so furious it practically clawed my eyeballs out, hauling up the crash footage from back then.

Seven years ago Myron Vance teamed up with your rival to have you killed. When he saw you hadn't died, he passed himself off as the man who saved your life!

Your company is crawling with parasites and moles right now. You sell off your shares in secret, this instant, cut off the arm to save the body! And don't even think about running from this wedding, Myron's got it all planned out, he won't let you slip away!

As it spoke, it opened up a hologram from the dressing room next door.

Take a good look! He's right next door making baby number four with his secretary. The first three are all stashed overseas!

Wow. That is one very big bed.

...

I stared at the two of them in the projection for a few seconds, then reached out and shut off the image.

Someone was already knocking outside the dressing room, hurrying the schedule along.

"Ms. Cooley, the ceremony's about to begin."

I forced down the fury rising in me, answered, and turned to dial a number I hadn't called in three years.

"Constance Cooley?"

"Aren't you having your wedding today? Why the sudden call?"

"Ms. Salazar, three years ago you wanted to buy my stake in Cooley. Are you still interested?"

"How much?"

"Fifty-two percent under my name, at your quote from three years ago with an extra thirty percent knocked off. On one condition, you pay it in full, in one lump sum."

Karen Salazar let out a sharp gasp.

"Constance, do you have any idea how much money you're leaving on the table?"

I looked at myself in the mirror, in my wedding dress, and let out a bitter little laugh.

"Selling to you this cheap, I'm sure you can guess there's some ugly problem tangled up in it."

Karen and I had done business for years. She didn't press.

"The due diligence files we ran three years ago are still on hand. I'll have legal rerun the numbers now. But let me be straight with you, I'll take this price, and once you sign, don't come back regretting it."

"Nothing would suit me better."

The second I hung up, a knock came at the dressing room door.

Myron walked in.

He'd changed his shirt, but his tie hung a little crooked.

The moment the door shut, I saw that outside this cramped little dressing room stood more than twenty bodyguards in black.

I dug my nails into my palm to keep myself calm.

Still, looking at Myron's face, I couldn't help myself. Under the pretense of fixing his tie, I gave it a vicious yank upward.

Myron choked.

Fresh off doing something rotten, he stood there giving me a sheepish grin.

"You look so pale. Nervous?"

He took my hand.

"Connie, don't worry. I'm right here beside you. There's no need to be this nervous."

The system swore in my head.

Scumbag, I'll shank your father! May you father kids with no skin rash to spare

The system's usual venom got a laugh out of me.

"All right. With you here, I'm sure I won't be afraid of anything."

Hearing me trust him the way I always had, Myron visibly relaxed.

The thing he'd been proudest of all these years was that I trusted him without holding anything back.

Over these seven years, whether it was swapping the finance director for someone he recommended, or handing him control of the overseas branch, I never hesitated.

I even signed off on a few suppliers I'd originally had doubts about, the moment he called them reliable friends, without a second thought.

Looking back now, I deserved every bit of it for being such a fool.

To think I trusted a man who'd appeared out of nowhere in a car crash.

My phone buzzed once on the table.

Solaris's legal team had sent the agreement.

I made the excuse that I still needed to touch up my makeup and sent Myron ahead to the banquet hall.

He paused at the door to look back.

"Hurry up. I've arranged every part of today, and the auspicious hour is almost here."

"I know."

The door shut, and I had the system confirm again that there were no surveillance devices in the room.

I opened the online agreement and scrolled through it, page by page.

Even the system went quiet when it saw the final price.

That cut you took yourself just sliced off at least a hundred million.

"The whole company's overrun with cockroaches right now. Karen's willing to buy in, which means she's taking a huge headache off my hands too."

I signed the electronic signature on the last page.

The instant the file went out, the wedding march struck up outside.

The emcee called for the bride to enter.

I gathered my gown and walked out.

Myron stood at the far end of the lights, smiling, one hand held out to me.

Rings exchanged, toasts made, photos taken.

When we reached the table for the company, I saw Roberta Baxter, the mannish assistant Myron was always complaining was causing trouble.

She was dressed loose as ever, short hair, seated among a few of the executives. The moment she saw me coming, she stood up with her glass.

"Ms. Cooley, congratulations on your marriage."

Her makeup was pale and plain as always, nothing to hint at the chestnut waves that lay under that wig.

I glanced at the red mark on her neck.

"Secretary Baxter isn't drinking today?"

Her fingers paused, then she smiled quickly.

"My stomach's been off lately, and Mr. Vance told me to go easy. I need to stay on call to handle any emergencies for you and Mr. Vance."

Myron took the glass from her hand, easy about it.

"She's been running herself ragged over the wedding for me lately, and her stomach's acting up again. Don't worry about her. I'll drink for her."

He tipped his head back and downed it.

The system gave a cold snort.

Just how blind are you? That mannish assistant of Myron the animal, one look and you can tell she's a first-class snake!

I'd already burned myself out and retired. If you hadn't spent your whole last life down in the underworld wailing "I'm sorry" to me day after day after that animal killed you, I wouldn't have gotten mad enough to claw my way back from the dead!

Forgot to mention: tonight was the night this animal was going to finish you off. If I hadn't come back to save your sorry life, you'd be done for!

Listening to the system's exasperated scolding, my eyes went hot. I swallowed the tears and thanked it silently.

Half an hour later, the reception still hadn't broken up.

Over at Solaris, the first round of document verification was already done.

Karen messaged me to confirm we'd go through the confidentiality procedure and transfer the shares under witness by a professional agency.

I slipped back to the dressing room and made another call.

"Academician Dickerson, it's Constance Cooley. About the free-transfer plan for the Skyvault Project we discussed six months ago, I agree to it."

The other end went noticeably quiet.

"Ms. Cooley, hasn't Mr. Vance been against this all along? Just last month he came to us personally and said Cooley had no plans to transfer for now."

My tone was firm.

"Cooley's projects are my call."

The Skyvault Project was the special research program Cooley had poured the most into over the years.

Six months ago, the top national research institute had offered to take the whole thing on, technology, database, and research staff all transferred in, with no acquisition payment.

It had always been the public research program my parents led while they were alive, funded to contribute to science.

When Myron found out, he lost his temper with me for the first time.

He produced so-called evidence, accusing Academician Dickerson's team of academic misconduct. I believed him completely at the time, and had no choice but to put the donation on hold.

But just now the system had laid their behind-the-scenes maneuvering out in front of me, and only then did I learn he was no crusader against wrongdoing.

He'd lined up a buyer overseas long ago, waiting only for the wedding to end so he could take over every project in my name, then use my company seal to dump the results of this confidential project, one tied to a breakthrough in research materials, for a fire-sale seventy million dollars.

The system cursed him up and down.

Lower than an animal. Nothing I hate more than a traitor who sells out his own country for a payday!

Last life, this was exactly the day he stole your seal authorization and sold this research project off. You got a case opened against you for allegedly providing classified research data illegally to a foreign party, and while you were out on bail Myron shot you full of sleeping pills and staged your suicide out of guilt!

Academician Dickerson said quickly,

"The prior approvals and assessments are all done. If you confirm, we can process the final transfer first thing tomorrow morning."

"We can confirm the transfer now. Send me the transfer contract right away and I'll sign online."

I hung up, and just as I set the phone down, the system spoke up.

Brad Vance, the company's administrative director, just went into your chairman's office.

The safe in your office has been opened.

I pressed down on my wildly twitching right eyelid and gave a cold laugh.

"Let them steal it. My shares are already sold and transferred. The seal in that safe carries no legal effect now."

After the reception ended, Myron, all eagerness, wanted to drag me straight to the county clerk's office to register our marriage.

"Connie, let's go get the license now."

Out of the corner of my eye I caught the dark wall of bodyguards behind him, and made myself sound anxious.

"But we can't register yet! Didn't you say you didn't want me getting shortchanged, that we'd agreed you'd transfer me the hundred-million-dollar bride gift you've saved up for me all these years before the wedding?"

The words had barely left my mouth when Myron's face went black.

Before he could get a word out, I cut him off.

"I already told those old-money friends of mine that when you proposed you said you'd give me a hundred million dollars as a bride gift. They actually made a bet that you'd never hand over anything that big."

"Don't tell me they were right? They'll laugh at me forever for landing myself a kept man."

Something in that hit a nerve, because Myron's temper snapped and he cut me off.

"Of course not! It's just been so hectic with the wedding, it slipped my mind."

I nodded.

"I knew it. You'd never lie to me!"

His face went from white to gray and back again, and he nodded through gritted teeth.

"When have I ever gone back on anything I promised you?"

He pulled out his phone right in front of me and got the bank on the line.

"It'll take an hour to clear. Let's go get the license now."

He was about to put the phone away when I caught his arm.

"Wait."

His brow twitched.

"Now what?"

"The memo line."

I handed the phone back to him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That's a lot of money. You have to note clearly that it's a voluntary gift. What if someone later mistakes it for a company transfer through my firm?"

Myron stared at me for a few seconds.

But the reception was full of guests, and those three words, kept man, had clearly landed on something raw.

In the end, jaw set, he had the bank manager add the gift note.

Only after the system confirmed the transfer paperwork and the gift documentation were both airtight did I slip my arm through his, satisfied.

"I knew Myron was the best. Otherwise those girls really would have laughed at me."

Myron forced out a smile.

The system tutted twice in my head.

A hundred million dollars for one marriage license. This bastard's face is practically green.

But the way the plan runs, you're supposed to "kill yourself" today out of guilt, and once he inherits the billions in shares under your name, that hundred million ends up his again too!

When the ceremony ended, Myron made an excuse about an urgent company matter, an online meeting, and headed to the car parked behind.

The system pushed the feed from inside the car straight into my vision.

Roberta was in there too, just as expected.

The moment the door shut, she dropped her voice, on edge.

"You actually gave her a hundred million dollars?"

"That's almost half the cash you can move right now! Have you lost your mind?"

"What was I supposed to do? She suddenly went stupid today and had to turn it into some contest with those society girls."

Roberta's face darkened with the sheer waste of it.

"But that's a hundred million dollars, not a hundred million in local money!"

Myron let out a scoffing laugh.

"What are you worried about? Once we've got the license, however she carried that money off, I'll make her cough it all back up."

"My cousin already got his hands on the company seal, and the overseas buyer has wired the payment. The second we go in and register, you call the relevant department and report her for selling classified research files abroad. Then have people move in and close the net."

"The sleeping-pill injection you arranged, is it ready?"

Roberta nodded.

Myron leaned back against the seat, his tone easing again.

"Once she's legally my wife, I handle the estate afterward as her spouse and the company's actual operator. Makes everything a lot smoother."

"That seventy million overseas is only the first slice. On top of that there's all the procurement, the foreign channels, the client base I've been peeling off Cooley over the years. You know the total better than I do."

Roberta finally smiled.

"True. Once the report goes in and she's under investigation for leaking technology, where's she going to find the life left to spend that hundred million of ours?"

Myron reached over and touched her belly.

"Once she's gone, Cooley falls apart completely."

"Our three kids are the ones who really win in the end."

Watching the two of them in the projection already carving up my estate, all I felt was a cold aftershock of fear.

Thank god everything had already been moved out!

Because just minutes earlier, I'd gotten Karen's message.

Solaris's legal, audit, and management teams had moved into Cooley headquarters and several core subsidiaries.

For now the whole handover was known only to a handful of the most trusted people. The executives Myron had planted were still completely in the dark.

"Brand, back up the footage of Brad Vance going into my office to steal the seal just now."

Backed it up ages ago. I even saved his idiot face fumbling the safe code twice, crystal clear, no loss.

I sent the emergency text to the police right away.

Hello, this is Constance Cooley, chairwoman of the Cooley Group. I believe someone has stolen the company seal and intends to use it to illegally sell classified data from a major research project overseas.

The dispatcher replied at once.

The information you provided checks out. Our technical team has already intercepted the classified project data.

On my end, I sent everything across at onceidentity records, the company address, and the footage the system had backed up from Cooley's own security cameras.

In the video, Brad Vance slipped into my office during the wedding, opened the safe, and took the company seal.

Then, down in the underground parking garage, he handed it off to Myron's people.

The evidence was clear as day.

They told me to keep the line open and not to tip off the suspects.

Myron came over himself to pull open the car door for me.

"Come on. Don't miss the appointment slot."

More than twenty bodyguards stood behind him in neat rows.

Supposedly there to protect me, yet every one of them watched me with cold, wary hostility.

I pretended not to notice and followed Myron into the building.

The moment the clerk asked us for our IDs, I made a show of pressing a hand to my stomach.

"I need to use the restroom first."

Myron's impatience showed plainly.

"Now? We're about to register. Can't you hold it?"

"This dress has been cinching me all morning. You try it."

He had no choice but to let go.

I went into the restroom, locked the stall, and snapped my ID in two before dropping it in the trash.

Five minutes later I came out looking panicked.

"Myron, my ID fell in the toilet and got flushed away."

His brow twitched hard.

"Constance, why the hell did you take your ID into the bathroom?"

I played it aggrieved.

"The clerk just asked me to get it out, so I tucked it in the dress pocket. What was I supposed to do?"

The clerk told us that without the document, the registration couldn't proceed for now. We'd need to produce valid proof of identity.

Myron pressed him, tense.

"A digital ID won't work?"

"It doesn't meet the current requirements."

I tugged at his sleeve and put on a coaxing tone.

"It's fine, isn't it? The wedding's already done, we're this close. Just send someone to get me a replacement and it's sorted."

Myron stared at me for a few seconds. Seeing no sign I meant to run, he swallowed his temper and turned to have his assistant handle it.

Just then my phone buzzed.

A bank notification. One hundred million dollars, fully received.

Then a second onethe share-transfer payment from Solaris had cleared its final settlement too.

Looking at that long string of numbers in the account, the nerves I'd held taut all day finally eased a little.

The money was in, the shares were transferred, and the handover of the Skyvault Project had entered its final steps.

At least from this moment on, even if Myron turned on me right now, he could never get his hands on what he actually wanted.

The next second, a man came hurrying in from outside the county clerk's office.

It was Brad Vance.

He went to Myron, who was chasing up the temporary-ID paperwork, and lowered his voice.

"Mr. Vance, the seal's been handed over as planned. Our overseas contacts confirmed they received the materials. The wire from abroad will land in under half an hour."

The words had barely left his mouth.

Outside the county clerk's office, brakes screeched.

Several cars stopped almost at once, and a wave of officers and officials strode fast into the hall.

Brad froze for a beat, then his face lit up. He muttered to Myron.

"Mr. Vance, the people you arranged got here fast."

Myron sensed something was wrong. Frowning, he swept his gaze to Roberta Baxter standing on the fringe of the crowd.

Across the crowd, Roberta had gone bone-white, shaking her head at him as hard as she could.

Myron's pupils shrank. The next second, he grabbed my wrist.

"Connie, let's go register first."

But it was too late. Several officers had already reached us.

The man in front held up his badge, his eyes settling on me.

"You're Constance Cooley, chairwoman of Cooley Group? We're here to investigate your company for the suspected illegal transfer of major classified research data to overseas parties."

At those words, the tension in Myron's shoulders visibly drained away.

Behind the crowd, Roberta let out a quiet breath too.

Myron even slid back into that devoted look and gripped my hand tight.

"Connie, what's going on?"

"But whatever's happened, I'll get a lawyer to post your bail right away."

The lead officer frowned, though, and waved a hand at the men waiting behind him.

Myron was still standing there, not catching on, when two officers cuffed him.

"Myron Vance, you're coming with us."